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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24017089">(What goes on) behind closed doors</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sdwolfpup/pseuds/sdwolfpup'>sdwolfpup</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Executive Brienne verse [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Voyeurism, there's no other way to describe it, this is just horny</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 00:07:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,991</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24017089</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sdwolfpup/pseuds/sdwolfpup</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hello?” she says. Still nothing. Brienne wanders the moderately-sized space, looking for a note or a sign of where Jaime's gone. Perhaps they were out of alcohol and he ran down to the nearest liquor store. She checks the bathroom and finds it empty, and that's when she hears a breathy moan from behind the mostly closed door to her bedroom. </p><p>It's a noise she's very familiar with and she walks quietly over to peer through the one-inch opening.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Executive Brienne verse [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1722469</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>197</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>J/B Monthly Madness: May 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>(What goes on) behind closed doors</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I didn't INTEND to use this 'verse for the JB Monthly Madness prompt for May, but the idea hit me and I ran with it. Thank you to kirazi for a quick read-through; all mistakes continue to be mine alone. Title from Dolly Parton's "Behind Closed Doors," because we're riding this train all the way to the end of the line for this 'verse.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>On the first Friday of Brienne's first week as a new Lion Corp vice president, she doesn't get back to her apartment until nearly eight at night. She knows Jaime's been waiting for her because he's texted her increasingly dirty messages littered with inappropriately deployed emojis for the last three hours. <i>Soon</i> she keeps responding every time he asks how much longer. <i>I'll be home soon.</i></p><p>He still has both of his apartments but they hardly ever go there. The Lannister-approved one is sterile and cold. His secondary apartment is more lived in, but still too impersonal, the domicile of someone who doesn't quite know or care what his style is yet. He keeps mostly beer and salsa in his fridge and relies on services for everything from prepared food to laundering his clothes. </p><p>“I feel too old here,” she tells him their third time there. <i>After</i> the sex, because she can overlook a lot of things when Jaime's head is between her legs. “Like I could be your mother.” </p><p>“I like your place better anyway,” he tells her, nuzzling into her sweat-covered thighs. “I like that it smells like you.”  </p><p>She gave him a key to her apartment a couple of weeks ago, right after he quit as CEO of Lion Corp. The gesture had been so overwhelming, Brienne had felt compelled to provide some proof she was as committed to the idea of them as a couple as he was, even though he never asked for such proof. Even though he never would. But tonight is the first time he's using it. </p><p>“I'll get dinner,” he'd promised yesterday over the phone. She's been busy all week and he's been keeping his distance to give her a few days to settle into her new routine. “You just go to work and come home and I'll have everything ready to celebrate.” </p><p>Now as she puts her own key in the lock and opens the door, she's grateful for the smell of hot food and the taste of spices that greet her on the air. The domesticity of it is a new feeling, and a pleasant one. Something she could so easily get used to. Brienne sets her things down in the entryway and hangs up her coat, waits for Jaime's cheerful welcome, but it's quiet in the apartment. Quiet and empty. </p><p>“Hello?” she says. Still nothing. Brienne wanders the moderately-sized space, looking for a note or a sign of where he's gone. Perhaps they were out of alcohol and he ran down to the nearest liquor store. She checks the bathroom and finds it empty, and that's when she hears a breathy moan from behind the mostly closed door to her bedroom. </p><p>It's a noise she's very familiar with and she walks quietly over to peer through the one-inch opening. </p><p>In the visible slice of her bedroom she sees a slice of Jaime, standing completely naked. He's got his back to her, and he's facing, if she's got the angles right, the full-length mirror on the wall. Brienne can't see the mirror, but she can see the movement of his arm, the way his elbow tightens as he bends and straightens it to shift his forearm up and down. She also can't see his hand from here, but it's obvious what he's doing, what exactly his long fingers are gripping and tugging, and Brienne bites down on her bottom lip to keep from making a sound. </p><p>She knows sometimes Jaime likes to masturbate – or even better, fuck her fast and hard – before nights where she wants to draw him out until he's trembling and begging. They hadn't planned for anything either way for tonight, but seeing him like this, preparing himself for her, is a voyeurism she didn't know she craved. </p><p>He has to have purposefully arranged this – starting the act when he knew she'd be coming home, leaving the door open just enough – but she's not going to deny either of them just because it's staged. </p><p>Brienne nudges the door open a little more so she can see all of the back of him: his shoulder blade like a dagger under his skin, the taut pull of his ass as he rocks a little with each movement. His head is hanging forward some, his hair swinging gently against his neck. His stance is wide and solid - a statement not a question - grounding him in her bedroom. Their bedroom now, she supposes, given his scent and his things and his ghost are all over it. She minds much less than she thought she would.  </p><p>With the door open more, she's got a view of the mirror when she shifts to the side, and the image in its reflection sends desire pulsing through her in a long, slow-growing wave that leaves her breathless. Jaime's eyes are half-open, his face tense with pleasure. His nipples are pink, like he's been playing with them, too, and Brienne cups her hand against herself through the rough fabric of her suit pants, applying firm pressure but nothing else, not yet. </p><p>He doesn't notice her, or at least he pretends not to, and that's how she wants it. It gives her time to gaze openly until he's imprinted on the inside of her eyes, like staring into the sun. She watches him appreciating himself: the long upward curve of his own cock, the play of his stomach muscles as he breathes deep, the way his jaw is hard and his lips are soft. Jaime has never denied his handsomeness; it would have been pointless to be humble about it when he looks like he does. But he does often brush it off when she remarks on how attractive she finds him, and she wonders sometimes if he understands what it does to her to see the veins on his hands curling up his wrist and around his forearm like living tattoos. </p><p>She can see them now in the mirror as he strokes himself. He's not moving very fast, but he's moving fully, pulling his foreskin all the way down to expose the reddened head of his cock, then all the way back up so it tugs his balls up a little. Her gaze travels back to his face, sees a flash of his white teeth as he bites at his bottom lip and he's so beautiful and all hers and her heart hurts as it beats a little harder. She curls her fingers into the vee of her legs but she's still just pressing and not moving. A promise to herself for later. </p><p>Jaime brings his free hand up to rub through the soft, curly hair of his chest, to trail over his nipples. That elicits a gasp from him and he stays there a moment, making small circles over the pebbled pink buds with the pads of his fingers. They can be soft or rough with how he uses them, like a shark's skin depending on which way you stroke. </p><p>On his downward pull he swipes his hand over the head of his cock, and the shaft, tender-skinned and solid, glimmers when his hand passes down. Brienne feels an answering leaking wetness in her cunt, and she presses her hand harder against herself, stills the unbidden roll of her hips. His breathing isn't as steady anymore, and there's the sound of slick, squelching skin, loud and filthy in the quiet, as he moves more quickly. He'll be over the edge soon, and now she has a buffet of options of what she could do as it approaches. </p><p>She could kneel down in front of him and take him hot and spurting in her mouth; she could come up behind him and cover his hand with her own and direct him; she could pull down her pants, bend over for him on the bed, and let him pound to ecstasy inside her. </p><p>She decides to watch, instead, to let the fire of his pleasure ignite her own. His free hand moves down, rubbing along his stomach, dipping between his legs to fondle his sack. He groans deep and loud when his nimble fingers roll and tug the skin, and Brienne stifles an answering call as her ass and thighs and cunt all tighten in expectation. The view is spectacular: the glistening front of him visible in the mirror, the muscles all along his back and his calves tense and bunching before her eyes. Jaime's staring at his own face, his mouth slack, his eyes so dark none of the mischievous green she loves so much is visible. When he gets close it's like the endless want of his need pours out of his eyes and she has given herself to that darkness enough times to know it is not something to be feared. </p><p>He's grunting with each slide and stroke of his hand and Brienne shoves her own hand down her pants, under her panties, to press her palm hot against the wiry hairs damp with arousal. Her clit is throbbing and eager and she accidentally brushes it and sends a shuddering flare of want through her body. “Fuck,” she hisses, fighting to keep still, and Jaime's eyes focus on hers with precision. He smirks at her in the mirror, sharp and knowing, before his hand stutters and his orgasm wipes the smile off of his face. </p><p>Jaime cries out as he comes, short, desperate, wordless pleas that rebound against her skin. His face is a painting of delighted agony while he works himself through it until his hand and his abdomen are streaked and messy. Brienne's trembling, her hand pushed so hard against herself her wrist is cramping but she wants to watch him more than she wants release, so she denies herself and waits. Denying herself is not always punishment, she's discovered. </p><p>She admires the flush on his cheeks and across his broad, golden chest, the way his cock twitches with aftershocks, how he wipes the back of his come-covered hand against the thatch of hair at the base of his shaft. He gulps air and meets her eyes again in the mirror and the green is back, soft and languid and welcoming. </p><p>“I didn't hear you come in,” he lies and she adds that to the things she will make him beg her for tonight. </p><p>“You made a mess,” she says, smiling so he knows she's being playful. </p><p>His eyes spark. He looks young and happy. He looks like he's meant to be in all her spaces. “You could come clean me up with your tongue.” </p><p>She's tempted and she's hungry so she walks towards him while he watches her approach in the mirror. It's strange seeing herself join him, her neat, dark business suit framing his naked body spattered with come. Brienne drags her finger through the dripping liquid on his stomach and while he watches with interest, she sucks it clean. Their tastes are mixed together on her skin. </p><p>Jaime turns to kiss the side of her jaw and she wraps her arms around his shoulders, holding him close. His clothes are piled at the end of his side of the bed. Even when he's not in it with her, that side is his now. She's ceded the ground willingly.</p><p>“How was your day?” he asks, his breath soft on her cheek. </p><p>“Not as good as my evening's gonna be,” she says and his laugh carries through her chest to her heart. He's had the key to that since the beginning and he opens it wider every day. As she watches him clean up, as they talk across a shared meal about their days, when they're lying wrung-out in bed later - Jaime on his side, though his hand has encroached and is rubbing warm circles on her back - she realizes he no longer has to unlock it at all, she leaves it open just for him, waiting for him to come inside.  </p>
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